Sunday, May 30, 2010

I just got back from the 64th Annual Reuben Awards in Jersey City, and oh boy, what a good time I had! First, my sincere congratulations to Mr. Dan Piraro, the hardest working man in comics, for getting the Reuben this year. Well deserved, and about time, and Dan! Where were you? There was a very real danger of someone like Stephan Pastis rushing the stage and making off with that big shiny object. Not that I would ever do such a thing, as it might require giving a speech.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

As everyone in the nation is no doubt aware, this weekend is the National Cartoonists Society's annual Reuben Award Convention Thing, and it's being held here (above) at the Hyatt Jersey City, somewhere off the coast of Manhattan. And look (below) they've got a boat in case you want to leave!

I'm going to the Reubens in Jersey this year 1, to see friends I never otherwise set eyes on; and 2,

because I'm up for the Reuben Award (below).

Every year the NCS bestows the Reuben Award, named for Rube Goldberg, on the Cartoonist of the Year. This year they've run short of names so I'm a nominee, along with two other, more deserving cartoonists, Dan Piraro and Stephan Pastis. Not only does the winner get the lovely ornamental statue, also scultpted by Rube Goldberg, but he (or she) evidently gets a set of dinner plates too (I make this joke everydamnyear and so far nobody's laughed). Goldberg supposedly planned his tumbling dwarves to be the base for a table lamp, but it somehow got reconfigured into a trophy. I don't think the ink bottle on top actually works, which is a shame because who wouldn't be inspired, overawed or just terrified into drawing better by using this massive objet as an inkwell?

To get to Jersey City, you get on a train and get off at the stop just before Manhattan. I'm hoping I'm not the only one there because all the photos I've found of the hotel so far seem utterly devoid of life.

Monday, May 24, 2010

Today's strip features a musical in-joke so obscure and unfunny I'm ashamed of myself, and if you got it you should be too. Alice's four and a half minutes of lost time refers to a famous/infamous piece by the American Zen master composer John Cage, who investigated lots of sounds including silence. It's called 4'33", which is how long the performer is instructed to sit without playing anything; this makes the audience aware of the ambient sounds of the performing space, especially if somebody's stomach gurgles, or worse. And I figure Alice, as a 4 year old, places some significance on the number 4 and a half as that's her next step up.

Sunday, May 23, 2010

Here's the rough for the cover of the third Cul de Sac book (unless you count the other, previous, third Cul de Sac book, the Golden Treasury Keepsake Trove or whatever it's called). This one collects all the as-yet-uncollected daily & Sunday strips up through last winter some time. and it's due out this fall. I finished the watercolor yesterday and Fedexed it off the Caty Neis, my editor at Andrews & McMeel (who I'm looking forward to meeting in Jersey City next weekend).

I took the idea from this older sketch for a drop panel that I never used. Drop panels are the ornamental title panels on Sunday strips that feature the title and some art, and are often dropped by newspapers who don't run the Sundays full width. Which is very much their loss if the drop panels are as lovely as those by Patrick McDonnell in Mutts. At some point early on when I had delusions of grandeur, I'd thought of doing a whole string of drop panels that would rotate randomly from Sunday to Sunday. Here are a few of the sketches I did.

Monday, May 17, 2010

David Paccia has been conducting a far-ranging survey of cartoonists over at his blog, David Wasting Paper. I got to be #125. My thanks to David for asking me along with my apologies that it took me like six months to answer his questions.

While I was wasting my time with freelance work 25 years ago, Dan Piraro was busy getting his wonderful strip "Bizarro" into daily syndication. Yesterday's Bizarro featured this heartwarming, ingeniously extrapolated family scene, with an almost-recognizable character representing the newest generation of Gagas.

Dan is up for this swell award, and I'm guessing he's taking it home with him and deservedly so. A lesser, lazier cartoonist would've thought up "Baby Googoo" and quit early for the day.

Saturday, May 15, 2010

This old Almanac was an idea that went kinda nowhere. Though it did lead to Petey, and the rest of Cul de Sac. I drew it in the early 2000s and when I turned it in Tom Shroder, then editing the Post Magazine, asked me if I'd ever thought of doing a strip with continuing characters. Wisely, I said no, but it did make me think about it, if only for a minute.

The concept of this one was having a kid who could talk to animals who are never much help and yammer on until he'd wish he'd kept his mouth shut. This would drain the magic and fantasy out of the whole idea of talking to animals and also be a real rollicking hoot. It wasn't much of a rollicking hoot and this was a far as it got. The kid, Sam, was from a character played by Bruce McCulloch on Kids in the Hall, a serious, non sequitur spouting, little boy named Gavin with a backpack. In slightly different form he turned into Petey. And like I said below, birds are fun to draw.

Out of concern for those bird watchers who may be wasting their time looking for these, we post this list of birds no longer considered worthy of your attention. Actually I only did this because birds are fun to draw.

Here are two old Almanacs I later combined into one for the book. The black and white one predates the color drawing by a few years. Allen's Mink Yard is named in honor of my then-editor, the great Henry Allen, whose family has no connection to the mink ranching business, as far as I know.

I've lived around DC for 48 years, practically most of my life, so you can trust that anything I say about the city is true.

Thursday, May 13, 2010

I took a portfolio down to the Washington Post for the first time on May 14, 1985 to show it to the wonderful Francis Tanabe, who was then the art director of Book World. I was mostly ignorant of what an art director really was, or exactly where I was supposed to be going, except I knew we had a 1:30 appointment. I saw this door as I walked down L Street, and it had a sign that said Washington Post so I ducked in, not knowing it was the side door for employees only. I somehow completely missed seeing the security office or the guard (who also missed seeing me), jumped onto the elevator and got off on the 5th floor, practically right at Francis's desk. He wasn't there. I was early and he was out. So I sat and soaked up the awesome grandeur of the place for a while and tried to look like I fit in.

He eventually showed up, apologized for being a few minutes late, and I showed him my portfolio.

Monday, May 10, 2010

With many thanks to the mighty Chris Sparks, renaissance man (comics, cheesemongering, websites, etc.) I am proud to announce the launch of my website, culdesacart.com. It's still being waxed and polished, and there'll be some additions over the summer and a bit of landscaping, but the construction is finished. And I think it looks pretty spiffy.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Here's a repeat for all the mothers and art appreciators out there. It didn't get any comments when I posted it in 2008 and it probably won't this time.

If I remember right, the painting everybody knows as "Whistler's Mother" is really entitled "Arrangement in Grey and Black". Whistler was a great painter and an even better etcher, but not too sentimental and a real full-of-himself jerk half the time, at least. He was pretty dang witty too, at least in person; when he sat down and tried to be witty for posterity it came out strained and mannered. His book, The Gentle Art of Making Enemies is unreadable, except for the title.
This cartoon doesn't have much to do with Whistler, except for the title.

For more information, see here for James Abbot McNeill Whistler, here for Giacometti, here for Botero, here for Arcimboldo, here for Damian Hirst and here for Thomas Kinkade. There. Mothers like things that are educational or uplifting.

Saturday, May 8, 2010

Five years ago the comic strip Blondie celebrated 75 years of the Bumstead's wedded Bliss, and had a huge crossover party with I think thousands of comic characters. This was before my time, comic strip-wise, so I could only add to the festivities tangentially. This was hard to draw as Blondie is so cleanly rendered, with every curl in place and every curve just so. It made me feel sloppy and hamfisted.

This year will mark their 80th, which is pretty much off the charts as far as traditional gift giving goes. I'd suggest an antique, or something fossilized. But nice!

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Brian Walker sent me these photos of the show he co-curated at the Charles M. Schulz Museum in Santa Rosa CA. It's the third of a trilogy of exhibits called The Language of Lines, and it focuses on Imaginary Places in the Comics (like I said if you'd been paying attention). It's got all my favorite places, from Coconino County and Slumberland to Camp Swampy, the Okefenokee Swamp and Dingburg. And somehow Cul de Sac snuck in there too. I'm enormously proud to be in this neighborhood.

My thanks to all the fine folks at the Schulz Museum and to Brian Walker. Sorry I missed the opening, but I hope you saved me some wine. For those closer than me (and really, if you're anywhere west of the Continental Divide you should go to this) the show runs for April 24 to August 22. If I start hitching right now I should just make it.

You may be wondering, "How can I best celebrate this festive day?" You might consider:

Finding a cartoonist near you and mowing his lawn, at least the front lawn (especially the hard part with the hill).

While you're at it trim his shrubs, so the mailman can find his front door again.

Does his house need vacuuming? Well, what are you waiting for?

Who left all these dishes in the sink?

The cats; somebody feed the cats.

You could take him to lunch at the Mexican place down the street, where they're having some no doubt cartoonist-related celebration.

For God's sake laugh at his cartoons. If they appear in a newspaper, buy extra copies (or multiple subscriptions, even) and laugh at them too.

Note: if the cartoonist near you is a lady, please substitute "her" for "his". The original of the cartoon reproduced above is in the collection of the fabulous Mr. Jef Mallett, so this is a scan of the Almanac book page. And it's the same one I ran last year, and the year before, if it looks familiar.

Monday, May 3, 2010

"Manhole Soliloquy" is one of my favorites so far, mostly because of the fine job Peteys' voice actor does of sounding awkward and slightly intense. And Petey's monologue is pretty much how I feel all the time anyway.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

I have no explanation for this baffling excerpt from a future Cul de Sac. It could be the strip's jumped the shark and gone in an unexpected and unnecessary direction. Whatever, we'll find out on May 30th.